-Nah, it was Brett Farve to the Jets.
-Yeah, that's what I said.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
I'm Just Sayin', It Feels like Awkdwardsville
So with Rock the Bells 08 coming up strong with a stacked out lineup (!!!!!), I've been getting pumped to see my boys Phaycyde reunite. It never felt the same after Bizarre Ride (tho Labcabin was dope), but hopefully they can bring back that classic energy circa 92. Yet, I unfortunately suspect that they are doing this reunion more for publicity rather than honestly displaying their unity. In the Whatsup Fat Lip doc, Lip details how he and Bootie Brown had a huge falling out, and thus the group disbanded. And it just seems like the beef still exists. Here's how I see it.
Slim Kid reached out to Fat Lip, made this. Imani was down to roll. But a certain someone wasn't.
Maybe it's me being a worrying fan. But look he re and he re (who dat chick. apparently she isn't a ho). Cohesion seems suspicious at best. Those two are so close physically yet so far.
(oh I'm just gonna sit here silently with my sunglasses and twiddle my thumbs through the edge margins of this book right here.)
It just doesn't look real.
And whats withZion Derek talking about Slick Rick's moral stories. Kids ya better treat her like a prostitute! Don't treat no girlie well until you're sure of the scoop! (dem sure ain't nursery rhymes)
I dunno. I hope I'm just being paranoid, but in a industry that has become faker than fake gold, you have to be a cynical fan.
"run dmc, whodi..."
"RUN'S HOUSE (OH GOD YES I KNOW THAT ONE! I love that show! It's so perfect as a warm up for Laguna reruns.)"
...
"Sooooo whatcha guys wearin'?!"
fucking prostitute
Uncle Ricky: So kids, remember! When a bitch tries to freak out before you knock boots cus her soon to be husband wouldn't marry a slut like her, don't take her warnin', ride her till the mornin' or at least till the pussy starts yawnin'.
Kids tucked in: Oh boy, that uncle Ricky is really weird
Slim Kid reached out to Fat Lip, made this. Imani was down to roll. But a certain someone wasn't.
Maybe it's me being a worrying fan. But look he re and he re (who dat chick. apparently she isn't a ho). Cohesion seems suspicious at best. Those two are so close physically yet so far.
(oh I'm just gonna sit here silently with my sunglasses and twiddle my thumbs through the edge margins of this book right here.)
It just doesn't look real.
And whats with
I dunno. I hope I'm just being paranoid, but in a industry that has become faker than fake gold, you have to be a cynical fan.
"run dmc, whodi..."
"RUN'S HOUSE (OH GOD YES I KNOW THAT ONE! I love that show! It's so perfect as a warm up for Laguna reruns.)"
...
"Sooooo whatcha guys wearin'?!"
fucking prostitute
Uncle Ricky: So kids, remember! When a bitch tries to freak out before you knock boots cus her soon to be husband wouldn't marry a slut like her, don't take her warnin', ride her till the mornin' or at least till the pussy starts yawnin'.
Kids tucked in: Oh boy, that uncle Ricky is really weird
Friday, July 25, 2008
Smart Start: Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde
No Question. Illmatic is the greatest debut album of all time. Period. But, was it the smartest?
It's the greatest debut because it's the greaest and it's his debut, and I use the transitive property. The lyrics are untouchable, and utilizing the production of hip-hop's finest beatcrafters was the right thing to do, but to a sense, it was safe. Team Illmatic did innovate the art of sampling by using back room records thick with dust (thanks to vinyl addicts Primo, Pete, Paul, Les and Tip). Predictably, Nas and his friends, who happened to already be production gods, were grouped with rap's legends as well as the 90's golden agers. Yet, this perception just proves that Nas' debut was judged as a hip hop staple, which left it to be seen to critics as what hip-hop is supposed to be. But does sticking to illy lyrics of hood tales and classic jazz loops futher the notion of what hip-hop can be?
So what is hip-hop's most prehensile premier? What debut album utilized respected techniques and molded them into a unique style to further the limits of the art? To find such an album one MUST delve into rap's alternative world, and a contender for the prize can be found in a little group from Los Angeles, a place where styles alternative to the mainstream are rarely ever congratulated. Let's travel to the Pharcyde of hip-hop.
The Bizarre Ride begins with buying the album. You get ready for what's inside by just holding that plastic (or cardboard) rectangle in your hands. You can get lost in the album art, a crazy dope painting of odd cartoon representations of the group members on a coaster heading straight into a.....well just look at it and tell me what you see. It makes you wonder what the record label was thinking when they let that slide. But then you flip the case and see the little Delicious Vinyl logo of the dude munchin' on a record, and you know you can trust the homies at Delicious. Plus, the Pharcyde's label was not (and still isn't) scared of experimentation, seen in when they backed Master Ace as he dropped the 'er' for an 'a' and took a trip to the Slaughterhouse or when they signed Brand New Heavies, a jazz band from England, to make hip hop with the game's illest emcees. So already, you know you are in for something out of the ordinary.
Then you push play, and you're greeted by an instrumental that sounds like it's being played at a small jazz club. Yet, in comes scratches of "oh shit", and the break beat hits. Next thing you know, brothers are yellin' Oh Shit! and sharing their most embarrassing stories. Slim Kid 3 introduces you into the conversation of hi-jinx with a nursery rhyme: "Little sally walker, sittin in a saucer/ Oh, how I tossed that ass up". Two minutes in to the album and you've jumped from a smooth jazzy feeling into the group acting like school kids at lunch break, one-upping each other with immature tales. If anything, Fatlip's verse will leave you saying "WHAT THE FUCK", and by the end of the song you have no idea what to expect. After "Oh Shit!", the tracklisting on the back cover might be misleading because the logical direction would be to go to another juvenile song, and the title of the third track does seems pretty silly.
This is the moment you realize that the album you are listening to is incomparable.
The instrumental jive hits again, and the group members take turns yelling out socially progressive critiques of how black men sell out. They deem these actions as the time when strong African Americans conform to appease the status quo and succumb to being viewed as Jigaboos. "Show Me Them Teeth Baby!". Fatlip borrows hip-hop rule number 4080 and illustrates how video directors attempt to place rappers in dangerous areas such as ghettos, so white America can view their black counterparts as evil criminals who are here to detriment society. The album's sporadic, light-hearted behavior is a refreshing alternative taste during a time when hip-hop's dark side was thriving, and the social cometary proves that hip-hop can be both fun and profound. With only a mere intro, a song and a skit, the Pharcyde helps you to realize that hip hop has no bounds, it's a force that cannot be stopped and can always further the extent of its universe. You're not listening to music anymore; you begin to appreciate it as art. A smart start for hip hop's smart start.
From the smooth vibes that drip from "4 Better or 4 Worse" to chants of "WHO IS THE NIGGA IN CHARGE?!" with a hostile chick in the background dishing out "um, well excuse me"'s to the simple pleasures presented in the campaign platforms in "If I Were President", the Pharcyde landed on the map with an album that sounded nothing like what was being produced in Southern Cali. The rappers enthusiastically share their digably juvenile outlooks and personal beliefs, and the beats they use are chock full of slapping breaks and unique loops. "Soul Flower [Remix]", a mix of the group's collaboration with the Heavies, uses a fucking funky Fatback Band sample that replaces the original's smooth feel with a chaotic and energetic mood. A notable line comes from the farmer man who points out "Yes I come from Cali, no I do not have a perm", another example of the Pharcyde's attempt to distance themselves from the hip hop world's common conception of LA acts. "On the D.L." shares "Oh Shit!"'s style of confessional rhymes as the group tells stories that they'd rather forget. And the name of the next interlude might also light up your eyes as you can just imagine the group taking a halftime break with mary jane, crying "ooooo"s after each hit.
So far, the album favors smooth drumbeats, yet as "Officer" starts the group flips the script with a quick break of techno kicks and snares, exemplifying the group's interest in a thriving underground genre that would have much success later in the decade. When the beat changes, in comes scratches of sample of Public Enemy's "Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos" followed by a Flavor Flav impersonation. Fatlip does his best Chuck D to set the stage for the song's stories of beef with the po-po: "I got a letter from the DMV, the other day/ I opened and read it, it said they was SUCKAZ!". This is an example of the album's successful attempt to pay dues, an important ingredient to great debuts. "Ya Mama" gives respect to another art form: snaps. If you want a song that compiles favorite Ya Mama jokes, the Pharcyde's got it. An especially funny moment: "Ya mama's a sellout, nigga/ Nigga ya mama made a pop tune, nigga".
Next up is everyone's favorite Pharcyde song, "Passin' Me By". We all remember the black and white video with the rappers hanging upside down as they regret lost love. But for me, the best Pharcyde track can be found in Slim Kid's masterfully slick crooning on "Otha Fish". With a hollow voice effect and strings of echoes, Slim sounds like he's singing underwater (fuck T-Payne's voice effect bullshit, this is where it's at). The song's undeniable smoothness just makes you want to whistle the melody all day, and the cool and hip nature of Slim's words sets the song above every shitty rap-R&B fusion you've ever put yourself through. With another weed interlude, "Quinton's on his Way", hailing the moment when your homie comes through with another j, followed by the stoner jam "Pack the Pipe", the Pharcyde once again drills in your head the fact that they like cannabis. Not complaining.
The album's final track is another highlight as Slim, Imani, Lip and Bootie pay more respect to the pioneers by making a Wild Style-esque 80's jam that sounds like it's coming live from the amphitheater. The song is a perfect way to cap a beautiful album, and it's clear that Bizarre Ride pulls out all the stops to prove that rap cannot be categorized into a narrow perception. The Pharcyde made a considerable amount of noise with the album, which was heard by the alternative gods of Tribe who invited the group to partake in their star-studded album cover for Midnight Marauders. The Pharcyde, showing that they can revolutionize something that was already revolutionary, followed Bizarre Ride with Labcabincalifornia, an album that featured J Dilla beats and his neo-hip-hop movement. Yet, after a couple of unpopular choices and a falling out, the group broke up. It's been ten years since they have performed. So what are the Pharcyde doing today. Well, tomorrow the four original group members will be performing at Rock the Bells in SF, and I'll be there! So blast "Soul Flower" and freak the funk to one of hip-hop's smartest debuts.
It's the greatest debut because it's the greaest and it's his debut, and I use the transitive property. The lyrics are untouchable, and utilizing the production of hip-hop's finest beatcrafters was the right thing to do, but to a sense, it was safe. Team Illmatic did innovate the art of sampling by using back room records thick with dust (thanks to vinyl addicts Primo, Pete, Paul, Les and Tip). Predictably, Nas and his friends, who happened to already be production gods, were grouped with rap's legends as well as the 90's golden agers. Yet, this perception just proves that Nas' debut was judged as a hip hop staple, which left it to be seen to critics as what hip-hop is supposed to be. But does sticking to illy lyrics of hood tales and classic jazz loops futher the notion of what hip-hop can be?
So what is hip-hop's most prehensile premier? What debut album utilized respected techniques and molded them into a unique style to further the limits of the art? To find such an album one MUST delve into rap's alternative world, and a contender for the prize can be found in a little group from Los Angeles, a place where styles alternative to the mainstream are rarely ever congratulated. Let's travel to the Pharcyde of hip-hop.
The Bizarre Ride begins with buying the album. You get ready for what's inside by just holding that plastic (or cardboard) rectangle in your hands. You can get lost in the album art, a crazy dope painting of odd cartoon representations of the group members on a coaster heading straight into a.....well just look at it and tell me what you see. It makes you wonder what the record label was thinking when they let that slide. But then you flip the case and see the little Delicious Vinyl logo of the dude munchin' on a record, and you know you can trust the homies at Delicious. Plus, the Pharcyde's label was not (and still isn't) scared of experimentation, seen in when they backed Master Ace as he dropped the 'er' for an 'a' and took a trip to the Slaughterhouse or when they signed Brand New Heavies, a jazz band from England, to make hip hop with the game's illest emcees. So already, you know you are in for something out of the ordinary.
Then you push play, and you're greeted by an instrumental that sounds like it's being played at a small jazz club. Yet, in comes scratches of "oh shit", and the break beat hits. Next thing you know, brothers are yellin' Oh Shit! and sharing their most embarrassing stories. Slim Kid 3 introduces you into the conversation of hi-jinx with a nursery rhyme: "Little sally walker, sittin in a saucer/ Oh, how I tossed that ass up". Two minutes in to the album and you've jumped from a smooth jazzy feeling into the group acting like school kids at lunch break, one-upping each other with immature tales. If anything, Fatlip's verse will leave you saying "WHAT THE FUCK", and by the end of the song you have no idea what to expect. After "Oh Shit!", the tracklisting on the back cover might be misleading because the logical direction would be to go to another juvenile song, and the title of the third track does seems pretty silly.
This is the moment you realize that the album you are listening to is incomparable.
The instrumental jive hits again, and the group members take turns yelling out socially progressive critiques of how black men sell out. They deem these actions as the time when strong African Americans conform to appease the status quo and succumb to being viewed as Jigaboos. "Show Me Them Teeth Baby!". Fatlip borrows hip-hop rule number 4080 and illustrates how video directors attempt to place rappers in dangerous areas such as ghettos, so white America can view their black counterparts as evil criminals who are here to detriment society. The album's sporadic, light-hearted behavior is a refreshing alternative taste during a time when hip-hop's dark side was thriving, and the social cometary proves that hip-hop can be both fun and profound. With only a mere intro, a song and a skit, the Pharcyde helps you to realize that hip hop has no bounds, it's a force that cannot be stopped and can always further the extent of its universe. You're not listening to music anymore; you begin to appreciate it as art. A smart start for hip hop's smart start.
From the smooth vibes that drip from "4 Better or 4 Worse" to chants of "WHO IS THE NIGGA IN CHARGE?!" with a hostile chick in the background dishing out "um, well excuse me"'s to the simple pleasures presented in the campaign platforms in "If I Were President", the Pharcyde landed on the map with an album that sounded nothing like what was being produced in Southern Cali. The rappers enthusiastically share their digably juvenile outlooks and personal beliefs, and the beats they use are chock full of slapping breaks and unique loops. "Soul Flower [Remix]", a mix of the group's collaboration with the Heavies, uses a fucking funky Fatback Band sample that replaces the original's smooth feel with a chaotic and energetic mood. A notable line comes from the farmer man who points out "Yes I come from Cali, no I do not have a perm", another example of the Pharcyde's attempt to distance themselves from the hip hop world's common conception of LA acts. "On the D.L." shares "Oh Shit!"'s style of confessional rhymes as the group tells stories that they'd rather forget. And the name of the next interlude might also light up your eyes as you can just imagine the group taking a halftime break with mary jane, crying "ooooo"s after each hit.
So far, the album favors smooth drumbeats, yet as "Officer" starts the group flips the script with a quick break of techno kicks and snares, exemplifying the group's interest in a thriving underground genre that would have much success later in the decade. When the beat changes, in comes scratches of sample of Public Enemy's "Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos" followed by a Flavor Flav impersonation. Fatlip does his best Chuck D to set the stage for the song's stories of beef with the po-po: "I got a letter from the DMV, the other day/ I opened and read it, it said they was SUCKAZ!". This is an example of the album's successful attempt to pay dues, an important ingredient to great debuts. "Ya Mama" gives respect to another art form: snaps. If you want a song that compiles favorite Ya Mama jokes, the Pharcyde's got it. An especially funny moment: "Ya mama's a sellout, nigga/ Nigga ya mama made a pop tune, nigga".
Next up is everyone's favorite Pharcyde song, "Passin' Me By". We all remember the black and white video with the rappers hanging upside down as they regret lost love. But for me, the best Pharcyde track can be found in Slim Kid's masterfully slick crooning on "Otha Fish". With a hollow voice effect and strings of echoes, Slim sounds like he's singing underwater (fuck T-Payne's voice effect bullshit, this is where it's at). The song's undeniable smoothness just makes you want to whistle the melody all day, and the cool and hip nature of Slim's words sets the song above every shitty rap-R&B fusion you've ever put yourself through. With another weed interlude, "Quinton's on his Way", hailing the moment when your homie comes through with another j, followed by the stoner jam "Pack the Pipe", the Pharcyde once again drills in your head the fact that they like cannabis. Not complaining.
The album's final track is another highlight as Slim, Imani, Lip and Bootie pay more respect to the pioneers by making a Wild Style-esque 80's jam that sounds like it's coming live from the amphitheater. The song is a perfect way to cap a beautiful album, and it's clear that Bizarre Ride pulls out all the stops to prove that rap cannot be categorized into a narrow perception. The Pharcyde made a considerable amount of noise with the album, which was heard by the alternative gods of Tribe who invited the group to partake in their star-studded album cover for Midnight Marauders. The Pharcyde, showing that they can revolutionize something that was already revolutionary, followed Bizarre Ride with Labcabincalifornia, an album that featured J Dilla beats and his neo-hip-hop movement. Yet, after a couple of unpopular choices and a falling out, the group broke up. It's been ten years since they have performed. So what are the Pharcyde doing today. Well, tomorrow the four original group members will be performing at Rock the Bells in SF, and I'll be there! So blast "Soul Flower" and freak the funk to one of hip-hop's smartest debuts.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Of Money's Ownership of the World That Surrounds Us, by Corey Woods
I spent my childhood in crime ridden areas, where news of deaths ruled;
Maintaining proper health was not an easy task.
One day, my mother left my father
And we settled in the borough of Staten Island.
As an adolescent I had my teeth capped with gold and wore Ralph Lauren Polo goose down sweaters.
I soon realized that I would have to resort to contraband sales to gain monetary success.
This is how it began, spending times with various ragamuffins,
Utilizing guns for jovial pleasures.
Yet it was all a fantasy of an teenager suffering from addictive behavior
As I started to inhale smoke at the age of sixteen.
I ran from the police and performed hired killings for large amounts of money,
Climbing up areas used to evacuate burning buildings.
It became obvious that I would try hard to obtain cooked cocaine and marijuana.
Yet the two's combination was physically and mentally detrimental.
I also was known to commit crimes to become successful
As I robbed young Caucasian men at basketball courts.
I continued this downward spiral while wearing those same Polo sweaters.
Life was harsh and stiff, much like the hide of cows.
One day I had an epiphany and realized I was continuing down a troubling path,
So I found a group of supportive and kind friends and turned my life around.
Soon I was buying kilograms of contraband from oversea countries
Driving Multi Purpose Vans by Mazda while making a weekly salary of $40,000!
So, my friend, give my success the respect it deserves, or else I will have to resort to using my 9mm firing arm.
Ch-chick-POW! Move from the gate now
...Whipped C.R.E.A.M.
Maintaining proper health was not an easy task.
One day, my mother left my father
And we settled in the borough of Staten Island.
As an adolescent I had my teeth capped with gold and wore Ralph Lauren Polo goose down sweaters.
I soon realized that I would have to resort to contraband sales to gain monetary success.
This is how it began, spending times with various ragamuffins,
Utilizing guns for jovial pleasures.
Yet it was all a fantasy of an teenager suffering from addictive behavior
As I started to inhale smoke at the age of sixteen.
I ran from the police and performed hired killings for large amounts of money,
Climbing up areas used to evacuate burning buildings.
It became obvious that I would try hard to obtain cooked cocaine and marijuana.
Yet the two's combination was physically and mentally detrimental.
I also was known to commit crimes to become successful
As I robbed young Caucasian men at basketball courts.
I continued this downward spiral while wearing those same Polo sweaters.
Life was harsh and stiff, much like the hide of cows.
One day I had an epiphany and realized I was continuing down a troubling path,
So I found a group of supportive and kind friends and turned my life around.
Soon I was buying kilograms of contraband from oversea countries
Driving Multi Purpose Vans by Mazda while making a weekly salary of $40,000!
So, my friend, give my success the respect it deserves, or else I will have to resort to using my 9mm firing arm.
Ch-chick-POW! Move from the gate now
...Whipped C.R.E.A.M.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
The Silicon Mafia left a message in my bed today.
Scary, huh?
So I haven't really unpacked all my stuff since summer started, and I really don't think I ever will. But I've found a new great unpacking technique which includes dumping out the trashbags filled with the shit I had accumulated over the past year at Davis onto my bed and then sifting to find what I want and then putting everything back in the bag (yeah, I'm that lazy). Well I was looking for my Richard Nixon mask today, so I emptied a bag and put it all back. At least I thought I did. I woke up to this sucker lying next to me in bed. I guess my USB cord that was already on the verge of death snapped, severing it's head.
But I think it's more than just me being lazy and not putting everything away. When I found the dismembered cord I looked at my laptop, suspecting that it was he who did the deed. Maybe my laptop is trying to tell me that it needs to be shut down more often than once a week, or maybe it's scaring me into casting it's godson in my new movie. Or maybe my laptop wants me to get off my lazy ass and get a job or start writing more blog posts to build a portfolio. And to that i say Truth Fairy.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
ATYN2BBYD (Vol. 3) Dance Cute to Misogynistic Music
Bitch I Don't Need Ya by Scientifik
"I'm the man, I'm the man, I'm the man, Don't forget it BITCH"
The late Scientifik never got the dues he deserved during his short career. His debut album, Criminal, is an underground classic, and his second and unfortunatly final album, The Most Blunted, could be mentioned with The Grind Date, Black Bastards and The LP as one of the most underrated albums of all time. Yet because of an unsolved death (either a homicide or a suicide), Scientifik's career is stuck motionless in the vast universe of 90's hip-hop.
Coming through with his own brand of Boston/Brooklyn swagger, Sci kicked rhymes as if he was speaking to one of his homies. His voice is ernest and clear, though the reissues of his works have considerably bad quality. Being put into the game as one of Ed O.G.'s Bulldogs, Scientifik spoke about matters one would find on his mentor's Life of a Kid in the Ghetto album, that is real ghetto tales about stunts, blunts and hip-hop. On this particular song, Sci drops knowledge about an ex skeezer who played him like Parker Brothers, and illness ensues.
"And now you're gonna act like I neva neva leave ya/
I might want ya, but bitch i don't need ya/"
Sci berates on his former main squeeze, throwing verbals blows like "Now a woman can bring you up or a woman can bring you down/ but I ain't the one you stupid bitch so how ya sound?", "My name ain't Sammy Sucka/ for me to go and give a ho some dough because I fucked her" (Damn, that's some ill internal rhyme) and "Cus if i didn't put you up how would you have a crib?/ and if i didn't bust a nut how would you have a kid?" (hahaha). Yes, he is being extremely sexist, but Sci pulls a Jeru (on "Da Bitches" tip) and says "Now this ain't dedicated to all Nuban women/ just the ones I cannot understand how they be livin'" and "I never had objections to opening a door/ or pullin' up a chair for a girl who's not a whore". But Sci's misogyny does add something to the track that the Damaja lacked in his: teenage angst.
"I don't give a fuck about you/
and all your so-called friends, motherfuck them too/"
The song was recorded in '92, when the music industry was being bombarded by indie rock promoting the fuck-the-world teen lifestyle of cynicism. And though hip-hop was steady in its own world full of Afro-centricism and gang-relations, that attitude made some appearances in rap. Here, Sci's dongivafuk flow and strong voice displays his pissed off nature, which makes it relevant to kids who are going to the same drama. Now I'm not saying that Sci endorses the indie 90's loser-revolution, but his rhymes speaks volumes to the audience of his music. And on top of it all, he's spitting over hella live kicks and snares!
The song has a simple beat, with the same bubbly sample Preemo used for "Just to Get a Rep" and a melodic piano tune. But the drum beats are what makes the song so ill. They are sporatic as he changes up the pattern for each bar, so it makes them that much better than just a simple loop. This, accompanied by the melody, is what provides the danceibility of the song. The song sends an infectious head-nodding vibe to the ears of the listener, and though Sci is demeaning honeys with each line, I could just see beezies bopping up and down to the track. It's well rounded, almost perfect, so DL it and have it banging as you roll down your block!
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